Sulan Box Set (Episodes 1-4)

by Camille Picott

  “How do you know that’s brining salt?”

  “This is the logo of the company that makes the stuff.” He gestures to the man-and-barbecue picture. “It’s the same stuff my dad had me use when I made smoke bombs. Plus, here on the back it says, When you want brining perfection, use the brand you trust the most.”

  I snort. “Let’s get out of here, then.”

  “We can’t take the whole bag,” he says.

  “Why not?”

  “They probably take inventory at regular intervals. Someone will notice if an entire bag is missing. I’d rather not bring attention to this.”

  I admire Taro for thinking of everything. He might resent Aston for his training, but it does have its usefulness.

  We find a box of empty plastic bags and empty half the bag of brining salt into it. Taro seals it and tucks it into the front of his jumpsuit.

  Riska returns to my shoulder as we slip out of the kitchen and back into the dining hall. We’re half way across the room when I see a shadow against one of the far windows.

  “Get down,” I hiss, dropping down beside one of the tables.

  Taro crouches beside me. “What is it?” he whispers.

  “I saw something move by one of the windows.”

  We wait in tense silence. The dark squares of the windowpanes stare back at us. Just when I think I must have imagined it, I see it again—a dark, human-shaped shadow against the window.

  “There it is again!”

  Taro nods, mouth tightening. I barely dare to breathe. Riska’s fur bristles and he digs his claws into my shoulder.

  Several more shapes crowd in with the first. The windows are jiggled in their frames. I hold my breath as one figure reaches the window we came through. I look at Taro, silently asking him if we need to bolt.

  “I locked it when we came inside,” he breathes. “They can’t get in unless they break the glass.”

  “Can they see us in here?” I ask.

  “I don’t think so. It’s too dark. Unless they have flashlights.”

  “Who is they?”

  As if to answer my question, a muffled voice sounds through the windowpane.

  “This better not be a wild goose chase.” The voice doesn’t sound like the voice of a teen. It sounds like an adult. “If you think getting your friends in trouble will get you a lighter punishment for stealing, think again.”

  “Sergeant Bramfold, I’m telling you, they’re in here,” says another voice—one that I recognize instantly. “You think we’re the only ones out here, but you’re wrong. And Hudanus is not my friend.”

  “Van Deer.” Taro says the name like a curse.

  30

  A Kiss

  “What’s he doing here?” I ask in surprise, not really expecting an answer.

  “He and his friends probably got caught by a security patrol,” Taro replies. “Van Deer must have seen us. He’s trying to take us down with him.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We can’t wait here.” Taro’s eyes lock on the growing number of silhouettes painted against the windows; there are at least half a dozen merc kids out there, plus at least one merc. “Pretty soon they’re going to figure out a way to get inside. We don’t want to be here when they do.”

  My mind flickers back to our brief time in the kitchen. “There are small windows over the sink,” I say. “We can slip out through those.”

  Keeping low to the ground, we skim back across the room and into the kitchen. Riska is silent, although the fur along his spine bristles. As soon as the swinging doors close behind us, he glides from my shoulder to the windowsill. He peers outside, tail twitching.

  “It’s clear,” I whisper. “If not, Riska would let us know.”

  At Taro’s nod, I jump onto the stainless steel sink and, unlatching the window, push it open. It’s only a foot tall and twice as wide. I hesitate, trying to figure out if I should scramble through face first, which will make landing awkward, or figure out a way to get my feet through first.

  A whisper of sound reaches my ears. It comes from the main cafeteria. There’s nothing loud or distinct about the sound, but I’m certain we’re no longer alone in the building.

  Taro shoots me a panicked look. Without thinking, I grab the sill and pull myself through headfirst.

  The grassy ground rushes up to meet me. I bite back a yelp and tuck my head, letting my training kick in. My arms jar from the impact as I arc into a roll. My back hits the ground, pushing breath out of my lungs. Momentum propels me forward onto my feet.

  I turn in time to see Taro dive out after me. He accomplishes the act with considerably more grace, barely making a sound as he rolls across the grass and comes to his feet.

  Riska swoops out last, fur still bristling. He lands on my shoulder, baring his teeth as he looks back at the open window.

  “Give me the saltpeter,” I hiss.

  Without hesitation, Taro reaches into his jumpsuit and pulls out bag. I snatch it out of his hand and shove it at Riska.

  “Take it, boy!” I say. “Go!”

  Riska takes the bag between his teeth. His wings smack my cheek as he leaps into the air. It takes a few full sweeps of his wings before he finds balance with the added weight. He flies away, fading into the darkness.

  There are soft whispers and movement from inside the open window as someone climbs onto the sink. A hand grips the open windowsill.

  With nothing but two hundred yards of grass between us and the nearest row of houses, there’s no way we can escape without being seen. At least they won’t catch us with the brining salt. Now we just need to come up with a good excuse for being out here together. In the middle of the night. I wonder if they’d believe we were just stealing chocolate from the kitchen?

  Taro turns to me, dark eyes intense. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I answer without thought.

  Before I know what’s happening, one of his arms wraps firmly around my waist. Taro draws me toward him in a rush, his other arm wrapping around my shoulders.

  My boot catches on a rock and I stumble into his chest. My cheek hits his sternum, right against his heart. It pounds against my jaw in a rapid rhythm.

  Even as my mind fumbles in shocked understanding, Taro places one hand under my chin. He tilts it upward and I find myself looking into his dark eyes. He leans over, his face stopping only an inch from mine.

  His eyes draw me in, pinning me in place. My brain goes all fuzzy. His closeness sends strange sensations through my body. My legs feel mushy and my heart beats too fast.

  He leans down, coming close, closer. Our noses touch, and my view of his eyes goes blurry.

  His lips brush mine. The touch is light, like a delicate bird landing on a branch. A shockwave goes through me. My legs lose what remains of their strength and go rubbery. I throw my arms around his neck to keep myself upright.

  He cinches his arms around me. The pressure of his lips on mine increases.

  My eyes slide closed of their own volition. My mouth develops a mind of its own, moving against Taro’s with equal pressure.

  I lose all sense of place. Some distant, vague part of my mind tries to tell me something, but I can’t hear anything over the roaring of blood in my ears. The world narrows to consist of only Taro. His arms wind around me, holding me as if he never intends to let go. The strong muscles of his legs press against mine. My hands marvel at the strong tendons in his neck and the thick, spiky strands of his hair.

  And his lips. I drink in the sensation of him. Our kiss deepens, becoming rough. His tongue slides into my mouth. I inhale sharply in surprise, then strengthen my grip around his neck. I kiss him back, my tongue meeting his. A meteor is streaking through my bloodstream. I am on fire. Taro lifts me off the ground, squashing me against him. We kiss each other hard.

  He abruptly pulls away, breathing heavily. I blink in confusion, my breath rasping. With deliberate slowness, he sets me on my feet and takes several steps back
from me. Even in the darkness, I see his flushed cheeks.

  The separation clears some of the fog from my brain. I stare, dumbfounded, at Taro. I look around, trying to recall where we are and what we were doing before the kiss.

  “Nice, Hudanus,” calls the rude, cackling voice of Jason Van Deer. “Always knew you had a thing for Brains. Too bad she doesn’t have better taste.”

  31

  A Fight

  Van Deer drops easily from the open window, sneering. He saunters toward us. There’s something sinister in his swagger. One by one, his groupies drop out of the window behind him.

  Without a word, Taro pulls me into the crook of his arm and steers me away. We walk at a sedate, unhurried pace, but his arm is like an iron band around my shoulders.

  “Aw, what’s your hurry, Hudanus?” Van Deer calls. His boots whisper against the grass as he follows us.

  “Gee, Van Deer. Maybe I prefer the company of a beautiful girl over you. Ever think of that?” Taro never stops walking, propelling me along. His bicep is rock hard against my back.

  I hold my breath, wondering if the merc boys will surround us. Then Jason gives a bark of laughter. The mounting tension dissipates.

  “You could have any merc girl you wanted,” Van Deer calls after us. “Any of them! And you pick a Brain.”

  My cheeks warm at his raucous laughter. His friends join in. The laughter ruffles me, and I pause to throw a glare over my shoulder.

  “Enough, Van Deer.” A merc I don’t recognize drops out of the window. I assume this is the Sergeant Bramfold whose house was toilet-papered. He’s a stocky man, his face red from the exertion of squeezing through an opening much too small for him.

  “I told you they sneaked into the kitchen,” Van Deer says. “Check them. I guarantee they stole stuff.” His eyes blaze with triumph.

  “We didn’t steal anything,” I say.

  “Yeah, right, Brain—” Van Deer begins, but the stocky merc cuts him off.

  “Enough,” Bramfold snaps. He turns a flustered expression on us. “You two, stay right there.”

  “We didn’t steal anything,” Taro tells the man as he approaches. “We were just … looking for someplace quiet.”

  His implication is obvious. My face reddens as Van Deer and the other merc kids guffaw and make rude gestures. Sergeant Bramfold scowls, clearly not amused by any of this.

  “Spread ‘em, Hudanus,” he says. “I have to check you and your girlfriend. You know the rules.”

  Taro nods, arm falling from my shoulder. He spreads his feet shoulder width apart, then raises his arms. The merc pats him down quickly and efficiently. I silently thank Riska for carrying away the saltpeter.

  “Your turn,” Bramfold says to me.

  At Taro’s nod, I copy his stance. Bramfold pats me down. When he doesn’t find anything, he says, “You’re both clean. You can go. Don’t let me catch you in the kitchen again.”

  “What?” Van Deer yells. “That’s not possible. You didn’t check carefully—”

  Bramfold rounds on Van Deer and his friends. “To the locker rooms, now! All of you. You’re going to scrub toilets and showers until your hands bleed. When you’re finished there, you’re going to clean my house. And when you’re done with that, you’re going to run laps until you puke. By the time I’m done with all of you, you’ll think twice before vandalizing anything in the Dome again.”

  Van Deer gives Taro a thunderous look before stalking away. The rest of his friends follow suit, all them herded along by Sergeant Bramfold. When the stocky merc glances back at us, Taro puts his arm back around my shoulders.

  “Take her home,” Bramfold says. “Now. Then get your ass to bed, Hudanus.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Taro and I obediently walk, leaving the cafeteria behind us. He keeps his arm around me, even when Van Deer and the others disappear from sight. I feel it relax by degrees as we make our way through the quiet streets.

  “Good idea to send the saltpeter with Riska,” Taro murmurs.

  “Good idea not to take the whole bag. Riska wouldn’t have been able to fly off with it and we would have been caught for sure.”

  He smiles at me. “We’re a good team.”

  I smile back, trying to ignore his closeness and the way it makes my stomach flutter. I can only assume he keeps his arm around me as a precaution, in case anyone else sees us out here; we have to maintain our cover, after all.

  “I don’t have to tell you not to pay any attention to what they said, do I?” Taro says, drawing me to a stop on a street corner. He drops his arm. “Van Deer never passes up an opportunity to be nasty.”

  “It’s okay.” I give him my best casual smile and retreat a few steps. “It threw him off our scent, which is all that matters.”

  He eyes me, as though he’s not sure how to reply. The intensity in his gaze makes heat rise up in my body again.

  Stop that, I scold myself. What’s wrong with you?

  Taro continues to stare at me. His silence is too much. I can’t stand it.

  “I think,” I say, trying to gather my wits, “it was a good idea.”

  Tension leaches out of his body. He lets out a long, slow breath. “You do?”

  I nod. “It’s like … our cover story. If everyone thinks we’re, like, you know, a couple or something, they won’t think twice if we’re caught out together at odd hours. It will make it easier to break into Maxwell’s, or do other recon on the League if we need to.”

  “Everyone?” Taro’s eyes widen. I can’t tell if he’s stunned or horrified, both of which make me feel stupid.

  “Unless you just want Van Deer to think this was a one-time thing?” My voice squeaks at the end, making the statement sound like a question.

  “No,” he says quickly. “I just—I mean, Van Deer will tell everyone—everyone—about what he saw tonight. If you’re serious about this being a cover, we may have to play the part more often.”

  “Play the part? What do you mean?”

  “Like, hold hands when we’re out together. And, ah, maybe—um—kiss. Occasionally. In front of people. Or at least, where we know people—the right people—will see us.”

  “Do you think that’s a bad idea?”

  “Ah—no, not if you don’t.” He eyes me, as though trying to gauge what I’m thinking.

  The thought of kissing Taro again sends a thrill through me. I shove the feeling away.

  I am a practical girl, I remind myself. Not a stupid, fluttering teenager. It’s just kissing, after all. It doesn’t mean anything.

  Then why, asks a small, annoying part of my brain, did you feel like you could stay in his arms forever?

  “So—so you don’t mind?” Taro asks. “What about Gun?”

  “Gun?” I shake my head. “He’s my good friend. Not my boyfriend. I don’t want a boyfriend.”

  “You don’t?”

  I shake my head again, still feeling off-balance from the kiss and everything it made me feel. I have an overwhelming need to express how much I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m not sure if this is for my benefit, Taro’s benefit, or both.

  Words start flying out of my mouth. “My mom had an exciting life before she married my dad and had me. After that, she was stuck in an apartment all day, every day. I don’t ever want to be trapped like that.”

  “Before you came along, your mom risked her life every day for a pay check. The life of a mercenary isn’t glamorous, Sulan. It’s dangerous.”

  His words make me feel stupid. “Do you ever want to get married?” I snap.

  “Yes,” Taro says without hesitation. “I mean, not right now, but someday, yes, to the right person.”

  “Well, I don’t,” I say.

  A flush spreads across his cheeks, the muscles along his neck tensing. “Did it ever occur to you that a quiet life in an apartment was something your mom liked? It’s the sort of thing most people dream about—safety, security, family. It’s the life a lot of people would kill to have.”


  His words lodge in my stomach like rocks. “I’m sorry,” I say, mostly because I see that he’s angry. He resents the mercenary life his father so meticulously laid out for him. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I only meant—”

  “You think relationships are a trap and you don’t want one.”

  “Are you going to be my cover boyfriend or not?” I ask, bristling.

  Taro’s face changes, almost all expression disappearing. I sense him withdrawing from me, even though he hasn’t moved.

  “Yes,” he whispers. “I will be your cover boyfriend.”

  Tension balloons between us. It makes me angry. It makes my heart ache. I don’t know what it means or how to make it go away.

  It occurs to me that maybe I should apologize, but what for? For being honest? For being clear on where I stand when it comes to relationships? Why should I apologize for those things?

  Taro rubs at his temples. “It’s late, Sulan. I need to get some sleep.”

  “Sure.” I take a few steps back, trying to hide my hurt. Part of me wishes he’d reach out to me, but he doesn’t. “See you later?”

  “See you later.” He turns away without another look, heading toward his house.

  I stare after him, unable to shake the feeling that, despite being honest, I said all the wrong things. My stomach knots. I want to run after him, but I don’t know what to say or how to take back the words that offended him.

  When he disappears around the corner, I feel like I’ve lost something.

  32

  Girl Talk

  When I crawl into bed a short time later, two things clutter my mind: the brain-fogging sweetness of Taro’s kiss, and the stab of his silent withdrawal when he walked away from me.

  I realize I should be more worried about Maxwell and the League, or about Van Deer and the look he gave Taro that promised vengeance. But every time I try to focus, my mind spins back to Taro.

  I replay the details of the kiss; his initial, hesitant gentleness and the soft feel of his lips against mine. And then the deeper kiss, the feel of his strong arms around me and the taste of his tongue in my mouth.